Yn y Dechrau
by Ina-chan
Summary: Thank you hwyaden for the title correction! Before the moving castle, before that fateful meeting with a fire demon, before Ingary, and before he even realized his potential for magic, lived a boy named Howell Jenkins in Wales.
1. In which a story begins

_**Yn y Dechrau  
**__**Chapter One:**__In which a story begins in a rather typical and ordinary way but ends with much drama  
_by Ina-chan

In the land of Cymru (also known as Wales), where rolling hills and beautiful scenery ran abundant despite its reputation for its ghastly wet climate… one of its mountains, Snowdon Mountain, is known to be the wettest place in all of the British Isles after all… is the birthplace of a certain boy who would later grow up to become an extraordinary man.

To those who already know his story, you might be familiar with his exploits regarding owning a certain moving castle, his reputation for stealing young girls' hearts and souls, as well as his appointment as one of Ingary's Royal Wizards at such a young age _(please refer to "Howl's Moving Castle" by Diana Wynne Jones for details)_.

But that of course is another story. The tales about to be told are events that happened before those adventures. Before the moving castle, before that fateful meeting with a fire demon, before Ingary, before he even realized his potential for magic.

What? Before he even realized his potential for magic, you ask? One might think that with such notoriety, there would have been signs prophesizing this young man's great destiny at the moment of his birth. Or perhaps, his lineage was that of an impressive ancestry to bring forth of such a man of greatness.

So people are usually disappointed to find out that our young hero was actually born in rather ordinary circumstances. It was a routine and uneventful birth in 11:15 AM, in an unremarkable general hospital in Wales to an ordinary and unremarkable family. Well, as ordinary as most families can get, that is. He was even given a rather sensible and unremarkable name, Howell Jenkins.

At first glance, the Jenkins family was your typical modern-day middle class Welsh family unit. His father, Lloyd Jenkins was a typical father and husband. Those who knew him always described him as a very sensible, practical, stoic, and no-nonsense man of good reputation. There was a family joke that if Lloyd Jenkins ever cracked a smile, it would probably mean the end of the world. Nonetheless, the seemingly perpetual and scary stoic seriousness of his features could not mask the handsomeness of his face.

Tall, dark-haired, with eyes the color of the sky, there was no doubt that he most probably had a fan club of his own during his day. That was, the girls whom he managed not to frighten away with his demeanor.

He held the reputable position as a manager from a big and reputable bank. He held high expectations towards his subordinates, and brought this no-nonsense attitude in his household, expecting his family to act the same. Thus, those who meet his wife for the first time were actually taken aback and were quickly bewildered with how a perfectly mismatched pair of personalities would actually hold up in holy matrimony.

Now, Howell's mother, Morgana Jenkins, was a class of her own. She was a ravishing beauty as if to compliment her husband's good looks. She was one of those people blessed to look 20-years-old for life. Her long fiery red locks framed a perfect oval face and big expressive green eyes. Nonetheless, her personality was opposite to her husband in all aspects. If there was one thing that you can expect from her, it was the fact that she would forever be mysterious and unpredictable.

People liked to compare Morgana unpredictability to the temperament of the sea. Like the sea's deep waters, you never really knew what storm was brewing beneath her serene smile whenever she has that mischievous twinkle in her eyes. No matter what time of day or how bad the crisis may be, she had a perpetual, care-fee, cheerful and optimistic disposition to the point that many people were deceived to believe that she was merely daft and flighty.

Despite the potential conflicts this match may have brought upon, the relationship persevered and the mismatched couple was blessed with two healthy and (relatively) well-behaved children. Lloyd made sure to that. He believed that it was a parent's duty to instill morals and values on children early in life to ensure that they too will grow up as respectable members of society. The elder child, Megan, was already well on her way from the moment she spoke her first word.

By the time young Howell was born, Megan, at a tender age of ten, was already the picture of a miniature mature young lady. Needless to say, Megan Jenkins was the prize apple of her father's eye. Responsible, dutiful, a striking resemblance to her father's handsome features, and with brains that earned her the top marks of her 5th grade class, there was very little doubt that this Daddy's girl will grow up to become the respectable young woman that her father wanted her to be.

As if to parallel their parents' opposite personalities, young Howell was a complete contrast to his sister. While he too seemed to have inherited their father's good looks save for the color of his eyes, his temperament was almost an absolute copy of his mother's flighty mentality. Despite all his mischief, none of the adults, other than his parents, seemed to have the heart to correct his errant ways. That was because at a young age, Howell had discovered that wide teary eyes or a bright sunny smile was enough to win the forgiveness of even the stoniest of hearts. Of course, this deviant behaviour was not entirely his fault.

While Megan was definitely her father's daughter, it was clear that there was a special bond between Howell and his mother. For reasons that will be explained later in this chapter, Morgana became house bound after the birth of her second child. The only other times that she seemed to leave the house were those almost routine trips to the hospital accompanied by her husband. Other than that, her husband was always busy with work and daughter busy with school, so her small son became her constant companion.

From the moment that young Howell had learned to crawl, it was not an unusual sight to see mother and child together puttering around the house, playing their make-believe games in the backyard garden, or seeing them watching rugby match reruns in the telly during the afternoons as Morgana darned socks.

On those moments Morgana would sing Welsh folksongs off-key and at the top of her lungs, as if she too was a member of the audience in the stadium. A normal person would shirk away and hide at her blatant display of talent… or lack of. But Howell would always act as a captive audience during his mother's impromptu concerts. It could be their precious bond that gave him patience to endure an otherwise inhumane torture, perhaps it was because he was too young to know better, or maybe he was fascinated by the silliness of some of the words in the song. In fact, it seemed as if the sillier the song, the more fascinated he became. It was during one of those moments, when Howell was two, his mother was vocally butchering Sosban Fach (one of Howell's favourites) when Megan came home from school.

"Mother, proper ladies don't sing silly songs about little saucepans and dead people at the top her lungs late in the afternoon like they're in some kind of drunken rage." Twelve-year-old Megan cried out in horror at the scene, in one breath, pausing theatrically before continuing, "What will the neighbors think?"

"Welcome home, and I'm glad to see you too, Megan," came Morgana's retort in a mock indignant tone

"And I can never understand your fascination with that barbaric game," Megan continued on, as she eyed the muddy players in the telly in disgust

"Rugby is the best sport in the world!" Morgana protested, her indignation no longer out of jest, "Why if it weren't for rugby, I wouldn't have met your father. Back in university, your father was at the top of the game."

"Father played rugby?" Megan stared at her mother incredulously. Somehow, the image of her prim and proper father with even a speck of mud on his sleeve was something beyond anyone's imagination.

Anything that involved her father interested Megan a great deal. Thus her mother's earlier unladylike behaviour was quickly forgotten, as the girl dropped her books on the floor and shoved her little brother, who started to protest very loudly, to make room for herself on the Chesterfield.

"Don't make it sound so hard to believe! Howell, don't be selfish and don't you start crying, there's lots of room for all of us," Morgana laughed at her daughter's expression with much amusement and attended to her son's attention-seeking behaviour without missing a beat, "It was a scene right out of a romance novel. Your father was going to be a future pro-rugby hero in the national team, and your mother was going to be a beautiful blue-eyed, blond Hollywood bombshell!"

"Don't be silly, Mother!" Megan laughed, finding the idea of seeing her mother in the cinema rather absurd, "Besides, we don't live in Hollywood, and you're neither blond nor blue-eyed."

"Alas, it's just my luck to inherit the stereotypical traits of my ancestors, despite being only 1/8th Irish," Morgana replied with over-dramatic woe, "But all joking aside, I did make one good looking blonde and broke a lot of hearts with just one toss of my glorious tresses."

"You tinted your hair?" Megan gaped at her mother in utter mortification

"Not all of us are blessed with beautiful silken hair my dear," Morgana scoffed, "Just be happy that you and your brother inherited your father's hair instead of my dreadful ginger locks."

Megan shook her head in exasperation, "But at least it's natural."

Morgana made another good-natured laugh, "Natural is overrated, my darling."

"But is it true, that Father was played good enough to become pro?" Megan inquired again, ignoring her mother's last comment

"He was the best! Otherwise, I wouldn't have given him a second glance!" Morgana replied enthusiastically before sad wistful look crossed her delicate features, "Your father would have made it to pro if he didn't injure his knee. He's a good man, and a brave man with all the sacrifices he had to make for all of us."

A puzzled frown lined the girl's forehead, "Sacrifices?"

"Ah cariad," Morgana smiled sadly as she raised a pale slender hand to brush the stray stand of hair from her daughter's eyes, "Sometimes people need to make sacrifices when they turn into adults. Sometimes big, sometimes small, but they are all important sacrifices in their own way."

Megan can only nod silently, not quite understanding what exactly what her mother was saying.

"Because through those sacrifices, our children can continue to dream unhindered," Morgana continued as she lifted her younger child, who appeared to be listening in rapt attention, to sit on her lap, "My darlings, when you grow up and need to make some of those sacrifices yourselves, it's not wrong to be a little selfish once and a while to hold on to your dreams."

"Then I shall do my best to make sure to fall in love and marry a rich and respectable man so I can become a lady of high society," Megan declared with great conviction

"Oh, Megan," Morgana let out a defeated sigh at that, realizing once again that her daughter thinks too much like how her father. It was just like her to completely miss the point. She turned to her little boy and saw that the two-year-old was still staring up at her with wide eyes, as if hanging on to every word she said. She bounced the child on her lap, who in turn let out a peal of childish laughter, "But you understand everything, don't you, my beautiful boy?"

"Mother, Howell is only two. How can he understand what we're talking about?" Megan berated in exasperation, "He hasn't even said his first word yet!"

"A mother just knows," Morgana stated, leaving it simply to that.

Though in truth, it wasn't really that simple. After putting up with her husband and daughter's good moral sensibilities for years, Morgana Jenkins finally found an ally and kindred spirit in her son. Long before her child could talk, he already showed his appreciation to her mother's silly dreams and stories with unusual spellbound attention. Something he gave to a precious few, to the dismay of babysitters and the other members of his family.

By the time he was coordinated enough to hold a crayon, the refrigerator door (and an occasional wall or furniture surface) became a gallery of artworks made of strange creatures and beings that were inspired from his mother's stories. Eventually, an even a greater number of creations appeared that were probably rooted from his own imagination. Thus in turn, Morgana did all she can to encourage her son's creativity with stories and make-believe adventures to her husband's complete exasperation.

"Good lord, Morgana," Lloyd cried out at that time when his son was a little over four years old. Howell showed him a crayon scribbled picture of a purple lizard-catlike creature as an explanation when his father asked him how his father's car keys ended up flushed down the toilet for the nth time, "If you continue to fill the boy's head with your stories, he'll grow up stupid."

"Don't be silly, cariad," Morgana would scoff indignantly, "Don't mistake Howell's imagination with stupidity."

"The boy is four years old and still not a single peep from him," Lloyd Jenkins stated insistently, "He barely knows the difference between reality and make believe. And this string of… deviant behaviour at a young age! Did you know that Martha Campbell flatly refused to come on Friday? This is the--- how many is it now? Twentieth? I've lost count! By the time the boy is five years old, we would have exhausted every single babysitter in the country."

"Megan is old enough to look after her little brother. She's been begging for more responsibilities anyway," Morgana replied with great annoyance, "And don't blame the child for your bad waking habits. For all we know, you could have flushed your keys down the loo yourself, when you're sleepwalking all over the house like a zombie."

It would be discovered later on that Howell was actually a certified genius. But of course, it didn't seem that way when he was an impish, attention-seeking little toddler. While Megan had already said her first word by the time she was six months old, Howell didn't start talking until he was five. A small fortune was spent with speech therapists, doctors, and child psychologists to figure out why such a seemingly clever-looking little boy did not have the ability to talk to no avail. In fact, the boy even looked as if he was having fun watching the silly adults make a fuss with trying to make him talk.

Then finally, Morgana set her foot down and put an end to the silly tests and concluded that Howell will talk when he was good and ready. Later on, when Howell decided that he was ready to talk, he started talking in perfect sentences without the baby preliminaries. It was rather cute at first to see an adorable five year old talk like a gracious adult, and sometimes with big flowery language to boot. That was until he got into the habit of chasing one question after another to his kindergarten teachers' exasperation. To the point that it suspiciously seemed that the boy was getting as much amusement with the silly adults' efforts to get him to shut up. But that is jumping too far ahead in the story.

Before Howell started talking, Megan assumed more of her older sisterly responsibilities towards her baby brother. Megan had a habit of wanting to get every single thing perfect the first time. Because of the difficulties that Howell had put his family through the early years of his life, Megan already had a head start with reading and researching every single book about developmental child psychology from the public library. Her own personal assessment of her little brother was not very flattering.

In fact, based on her research, she came to the conclusion that her bratty little brother was treading the line of growing up to become a no good social outcast. And perhaps even worse… an unemployed welfare leech. She made it a personal goal to ensure that no brother of hers was going to become a useless member of society. She has been itching for the opportunity to implement the reform program she devised before it was too late.

Even though Howell was still too young to really understand the ulterior motives his sister had for him, spending more time alone with his sister did not sit too well with him at all. After all, the main reason he was acting particularly bratty to all his baby sitters was that he didn't want them to become too comfortable watching over him. It would simply be too horrible if they decide that they would take care of him instead of his mother.

So when Megan took over the babysitting responsibilities, Howell suddenly found himself in an unfair disadvantage. Living with Megan all his life meant that she knew every single trick he played to make the babysitters go away. In fact, it even seemed as if Megan knew what he was thinking of doing before he even thought it. No amount of tantrum or theatrics affected her. And worst of all, no matter what he did, Megan will never be sacked or go away. Megan had proven herself to be a headstrong and efficient as her father when it comes to implementing her moral sensibilities. So at a young age, Howell quickly realized that it was easier to give in or find a way to slither out than go against head on with his sister.

As miserable as Howell was, their parents saw the arrangement with great relief. While Lloyd never really showed it, he was actually a big worrier. He worried about a lot of things. He worried about his work and his subordinates. He worried about the safety of his children when they were left alone in the house. He worried about his wife. If the size of ulcers were equivalent to the size of worry invested into creating it, Lloyd would probably be literally a living, walking, giant ulcer. Seeing Megan take over the babysitting responsibilities took a bit of a load off his mind, though it didn't stop him from worrying if he was putting too much of a load on his teen-aged daughter.

Lloyd didn't want his children to worry about things that they didn't need to worry about. Morgana wholeheartedly agreed. That was the reason why, they decided to keep a very important secret. Lloyd hid it easily behind his stoic silent expression, while Morgana hid it behind her sunny smiles and happy disposition. But despite their efforts, both children had already long suspected that their parents were hiding something from them. There was a lingering form of anxiety in the air that was never truly addressed. Children were sensitive to those kinds of things. And in time, Morgana's routine visits to the hospital eventually started to take its toll.

It was what made Megan obsess about things, such as how to properly raise her little brother. One of the child psychologists even suggested that hiding this secret might be the cause of Howell's inability to talk. If that was the case, Morgana vehemently refused to take the chance of getting his son's voice in exchange of giving her children the burden on agonizing over things that adults should be able to handle on their own. So she smiled her sunny smile reassured them that everything was perfectly all right. The children believed her. Everyone wanted to believe her so they completely ignored that unspoken and uneasy air.

That was until the short visits to the hospital had started stopped becoming routine. The visits not only became more frequent, but her stay started becoming lengthier as well. Though she still smiled when her children were around her, her cheery smiles couldn't hide the fact that her former boundless energy was faltering, her skin was turning sallow, her slender physique shrunk to skin and bones, and the ginger hair that she greatly detested seemed to share an equal vehemence of her that they started to fall off in alarming clumps at the sweep of a hair brush as she brushed her hair in front of her dresser's mirror.

"Well isn't that a bother!" Morgana sniffed in annoyance at the mirror, before she turned to her children with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "Let's say we shave it all off. I've never been bald before, so it will be a great new experience."

Surprisingly enough, Megan went off to get her father's razor without even protesting that a woman shaving her head was completely unladylike. Howell simply climbed on his mother's lap and eyed the stands of red hair in his mother's hairbrush dolefully.

Morgana hugged her son comfortingly and gave his forehead a reassuring kiss, "Don't be sad, my beautiful boy. I always hated ginger anyway."

It was shortly after that when Megan heard her brother speak for the first time. Their parents set off once again for another un-routine visit to the hospital. But unlike the other times, there seemed to be a heavy feeling in the air accompanying the usual feelings of anxiety when Morgana had kissed her children goodbye before leaving Megan in charge.

Howell, to Megan's utter astonishment, didn't go through their ritual silent declaration of war as soon as their parents' car drove away. Her little brother even seemed uncharacteristically clingy the whole night until she finally shooed him to bed so she could work on her homework. It was a few minutes after midnight, when she was suddenly woken by a small hand shaking her arm. She let out a soft groan upon seeing her little brother kneeling by her bed, his wide green eyes staring at her anxiously.

"Howell, what are you doing up?" Megan moaned in annoyance as she sat up and tried to rub the sleep off her eyes, "Go back to bed."

The little boy shook his head in dismay, as he fidgeted with her blankets.

Megan frowned, "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

Howell simply stared as his hands continued to play the fabric in front of him.

The older girl sighed, figuring that that was exactly the case. Usually, it was their mother whom he ran to whenever he had a bad dream. Being the one available for comfort in the house, she figured that he already had enough trouble swallowing his pride to come to her for help. So she quickly scooted to make room for the little boy with little fuss, "Fine, you can sleep with me for tonight. But next time, you're on your own."

The little boy didn't reply as he obediently climbed under the covers then instantly latched onto his sister's arm. It was only then that Megan realized that her younger brother was trembling. Her eyes quickly shot open as she sat up to turn towards her little brother in alarm, "Howell, what is it?"

"Mother said goodbye," came a soft whisper

Megan's instinctively pushed the little boy at half-arms length as if to inspect him to make sure that the sound she heard wasn't her imagination. But the little boy looked utterly miserable that whatever inborn motherly instinct she had, overshadowed the shock of hearing her little brother finally talk.

She brushed the stray strands of dark hair from her brother's eyes just as their mother used to do, "You know how Mother likes to be overly dramatic when she gets sick and needs to see the doctor. She hates being away from us after all. Just you wait, she'll be back very soon and things will be the way it has."

"No, not earlier today," Howell shook his head even more vigorously, rubbing a sleeve across his face to keep his sister from seeing the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, "Just now… a few minutes ago in my bedroom. Mother said goodbye."

The older girl could only stare at the younger boy, stunned. In any other circumstance, she would have put her brother on her lap and start giving him a good spanking for making up such a horrible story and playing such a cruel joke. She didn't know why or how… but somehow, as she stared at the distraught little boy before her, something told her that her brother was telling the truth. And for the first time in her life, Megan was at a complete loss at what to do.

As if sensing his sister's helplessness, Howell finally burst into inconsolable tears. Megan held her brother in her hands in vain. She was too frightened and too shocked to summon what's left of any motherly instincts within her to be much comfort. So, instead, she quickly took the little boy in her arms to carry him downstairs in order to do the first idea that came to her mind.

"**_Mae bys Mary Ann wedi brifo,"_** came later on the first line from the silly saucepan song that Howell liked their mother to sing to him so much in a soft tuneless whisper amidst the cheering noises coming from the television.

And that was how Lloyd Jenkins found his two children when he arrived home a few minutes later…

"**_Sosban fawr yn berwi ar y llawr"_**

…sitting side by side on the Chesterfield, watching the television play a video tape of the other night's rugby match…

"**_Sosban fach yn berwi ar y tan" _**

…solemnly singing the final verse of a silly Welsh folksong about saucepans, as if they were singing the national anthem.

"**_A'r gath nawr yn cysgu mewn hedd."_**

End of Chapter One.  
To be continued.

Author's Squawk:

I still have a personal problem with FFNET, but seeing that this is the only archive in the net for DWJ fanfics, I will swallow my pride and post my DWJ fics here. So for the record, all other fics I'm writing will continue to not be archived here anymore.

Now, on to the little side notes in the story. I was hoping to be the first one to post a "prequel" so to speak of the HMC storyline, and have been formulating this story for the past 2 weeks in the top of my head. Unfortunately, it seems I was beaten to it, but I'm glad that my fic seems to be heading towards a different direction. .

Anywayz, the Welsh folksong I put in here is called _**Sosban Fach**_. It's actually the silly saucepan song that Sophie mentioned in the book that Calcifer, Micheal, and Howl would occasionally sing while they worked (according to the DWJ sites I encountered while I was doing my research). It would seem that it's a Welsh Folksong traditionally sung in rugby matches. . Isn't that rather fitting?

I decided to not put the English translation because it looks more dignified and dramatic in Welsh. It's really a very silly song, with nonsensical words, and I was afraid that if non-Welsh speaking people knew what it really meant, the ending won't have as much of an impact. So if you want to find out the words, it's freely available for searching in the net.

As for the character names, I think those familiar with Welsh names, as well HMC and CitA would figure out why I chose them.

I hope you liked my first chapter, and please feel free to send me comments and I really appreciate constructive criticism.

Ja!  
Ina-chan


	2. In which Howell adjusts

**_Disclaimer: _**Howl's Moving Castle and all its characters belong to Diana Wynne Jones. I, on the other hand, own nothing but my morbid imagination. My life sucks.

July 8, 2005

_**Yn y Dechrau  
**_**_Chapter Two: _**_In which Howell adjusts to various changes brought by life  
_by Ina-chan

The days after Morgana's death turned into weeks, the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years. The atmosphere within the Jenkins family was never the same. But to say that her death brought nothing but utmost sadness would be completely misleading. Of course, they still had the usual small happy family moments, in between those times… they coped.

Lloyd coped by paying more attention to his work. He was barely home enough as it was when his wife was alive because of his work-related commitments. After her death, it almost seemed as if work became his lifeline to sanity. His superiors were so impressed by his dedication that he was promoted to a higher position that involved him traveling most days of the year to look over the bank's various facilities all over the country.

No one was more outraged by this other than the Jenkins children's paternal grandmother. For this reason, Ceridwen Jenkins, also fondly known as Nana Kerrie, snatched her grandchildren from her neglectful son to live with her in the rugged countryside of the Welsh highlands. Lloyd was initially reluctant to give up his children, but Nana Kerrie was not a force to be reckoned with.

"I have every right to them! You kept those children from me all these years, it's only right and proper that you give them to me. I want get to know them before I die," Nana Carrie's voice sounded so loud and angry over the telephone, that both children were completely astonished to see their headstrong father look absolutely helpless, "I will neither allow my grandchildren remain strangers to me nor have strangers raising them while you run away from your fatherly responsibilities!"

In the end, the arrangement came to place and the Jenkins children were to live under the watchful eyes of their grandmother, while their father was to come to visit them whenever his work allowed.

Both Megan and Howell were not pleased with the agreement at first. After all, they never had a chance to meet their grandmother in the flesh. Until that moment when their father brought them to their grandmother's home, Nana Kerrie was mostly a collection of birthday and Christmas presents, holiday letters, and a few telephone conversations. There was also the fact that they never strayed from the place of their birth all their lives. The only time Megan left their hometown was through a school field trip to London back in middle school. The Welsh Highlands was as foreign to them as China!

Megan was most especially upset with the idea that she'll end up seeing her beloved father for even less time than she wanted. Nonetheless, she quickly found a way to adjust to their new family situation. Megan, being Megan, found means to make do with their situation and even turn it into her advantage. In very little time, she established herself to become the local high school's celebrity.

Howell, in the other hand, faced the whole ordeal with mixed feelings. While he was not as close to his father as his sister was, not seeing their father was almost the same as losing a parent all over again. During the days before they were brought to their grandmother, it almost seemed as if he was going to withdraw back into that silent little boy. Not even Megan's bullying could force him to talk back, even out of spite. That was until he found that he liked his eccentric Grandmother. He didn't understand why, but it almost felt as if there was an unspoken connection between the two of them from the moment they finally met.

Megan was clutching her father's hand tightly on one side, while Howell held the other when their father formally introduced them to their grandmother. Both children didn't know what to make out of the thin, withered, frail-looking, old lady whom their father was introducing them to. But they were quick to discover that despite their grandmother's looks, there was an inexplicable regal air about her that made you sit up and pay attention. Most especially when she gave you 'the look' then addressed you with her clear authoritative voice, showing her history as the town's school teacher. It was very clear from whom Lloyd and Megan's serious and no nonsense demeanor came from.

"Come here," Nana Kerrie's clear blue eyes pierced right at the young boy through her silver rimmed spectacles as soon as she was finished inspecting the older Jenkins girl, "Let these old eyes see you up close, my boy."

Howell started to hide behind his father bashfully… he was not even quite six-years-old, after all. But his father gently nudged him, so he had no choice but to step forward to his grandmother's waiting arms. The old woman tilted her chin up as she peered at the boy. She held him at arms length for a few moments, before her features softened, "Howell. A most appropriate name, for this is definitely a bright one. He's got his mother's eyes and foolishness, but this one has the sight."

"The sight?" Howell echoed curiously, his bashfulness instantly disappearing

"You, my boy, are born to see things beyond what others can see," His grandmother replied with a gentle smile, "Your father had the sight too, though slightly different. He was able to see his life beyond this poor town's mines and quarries. It will be very interesting indeed to see how you will turn out."

Howell broke into a big smile. It was at that exact moment that he knew living with his grandmother was not going to be the end of the world. He didn't understand then the reason why, but she hit on the nail on a little secret that Howell has been keeping for quite a while. When he was little, his crayon artworks were the testimonies of what it was but everyone simply credited it to his great imagination. Howell did have a very creative mind's eye, and he did have a gift of another form of sight. However, depending on point of view, it was somewhat a blessing or a shame that it wasn't clearly revealed because of his silence as a younger child and due to this lack of artistic abilities.

For example, the creature that Lloyd mistook for a strange purple cat-lizard thing was really his attempt on drawing the likeness of an invisible little person who lived in his parents' walk-in closet. It wasn't malicious, it was really lonely and just a tad bit mischievous, it simply liked to go around the house and hide things to get attention. There was a small colony of little people who lived in his mother's herb garden as well. They mostly kept to themselves and weren't much fun. He would often catch a glimpse of something unusual around their neighborhood. Once or twice, he saw a transparent little girl in a pink frilly party dress hovering about Mrs. Winston's dog. There was an occasional translucent traveler, somehow finding themselves lost in the front porch, apologizing that they were simply passing through.

Howell seemed to be the only one who saw them. It was odder still that there seemed to be twice the number of both invisible and little people about their grandmother's hometown and no one seemed to take notice of them either. Not that they were trying to draw attention to themselves. Mostly they were just lying about in the sun, or would occasionally approach something that would catch their interest to watch curiously. A few noticed with great amusement that Howell could see them and would do things to catch his attention and try to make him laugh. It got the little boy in trouble once or twice in Church. Megan would often give him a light slap on the arm to remind him on things like how impolite it is to stare at Mrs. O'Connely's hat… even if it was the most ghastly man-made thing ever created.

But despite his grandmother's initial assessment, she never mentioned to him anything remotely like it again. Howell began to doubt if his grandmother even saw his gift after all. But he wasn't about to bring it up and have his grandmother think that he was strange. Even though he liked his grandmother, she was still an adult. Howell knew from experience that it was too much of an effort to try to explain the invisible people's existence to adults. They never seem to understand anything at all. So he never bothered… which proved to be a smart move, as his friend Mumbles Reilly later explained.

Mumbles was the first friend Howell made when he moved in with his grandmother. Her family owned the village's grocery store and they often delivered Nana Carrie's groceries since rheumatism gets the better of her knees in most days. Mumbles' real name was actually, Felicia. But being thin, gangly, knobby elbowed and even more knobby kneed, with an ever-resent blue baseball cap sitting back-ways on her short-cropped dirty blonde head, she really looked and acted more like a boy than girl. Howell even thought that she really was a boy at first, so nobody was more surprised to see her wearing her best Sunday dress at Church.

She also had the bad habit of talking under her breath, and thus earning her nickname. Most of the time, her own family can barely understood what she said. In fact, people usually guessed the essence of what she was saying based on her intonation. But strangely enough, Howell found that he understood every single word she said perfectly. She didn't have a lot of friends because of the way she talked. It was something they both had in common when they first met, so they bonded almost instantly and became inseparable friends. Needless to say, his grandmother and Mumbles' parents were thrilled with the idea of their introverted children finally finding friends. It was a bonus that her parents finally found an unwitting interpreter for their daughter's incomprehensible warble.

Nonetheless, it was still somewhat disappointing for Howell to discover that Mumbles didn't seem to share his gift of sight as well. He asked her opinion about seeing invisible people in passing once. She simply replied that talking about things that other people don't see were never a good thing. Then she proceeded to share the story, with great gory detail, about her Uncle Floyd who claimed that God sent messages to him through the telly. Floyd Reilly caused quite a disruption when he repeatedly lay down stark naked in the middle of the only road out of town everyday for several months to keep vehicles from getting in and out because God instructed him to do so via a BBC news report.

"Eventually, he was taken away by the police and shipped off never to be seen again," Mumbles garbled quietly

"Taken away? To where?" Howell asked, eyes wide with morbid curiosity

Mumbles merely shrugged before whispering almost inaudibly, "It happened before I was born. My Aunt Josie said that he moved around to so many different facilities that they lost track of him. Though last we heard, he's in some sort of looney bin near London. Bottom line is, seeing things that other people don't see is enough to get you branded as a nutter. And nutters get hauled away and locked up to keep them from becoming a menace to society."

With that, Howell never mentioned seeing his strange sights to anyone again. He even made sure to ignore the invisible people who tried to get his attention until it was finally second nature. It wasn't too hard since they weren't bothering anybody. Though once in a while, he still saw them moving about from the corner of his eye. Not that Mumbles had her own personality quirks either. She liked to read, loved poetry and dreamed of becoming a poet.

"Perhaps it was hereditary," Megan suggested after she asked Howell what his new friend was like, "She already has a mad uncle, after all..."

(Floyd Reilly's reputation, as it turned out, was within in the ranks of an urban legend in their parts.)

Though Howell didn't agree with his sister's assumptions, sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if Megan was right. Mumbles, after all, was a great believer of fortune telling but chose a strange medium for her divining using poetry passages. She would randomly open a page from a book of poems every time she needs to make an important decision, and left her fate on passages written by the hands of Robert Frost and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Despite her idiosyncrasies, she was instrumental in making Howell realize that though unusual abilities can get you in trouble sometimes, harnessing them can bring you to an advantage as well… and thus, the story behind his second gift.

Aside from seeing invisible people, Howell also had an uncanny talent with solving riddles and puzzles. Though at first, he mostly used it to help solve Nana Kerrie's crossword puzzles. This talent, as was later discovered purely by accident, also extended to solving difficult mathematic puzzles. He instinctively knew how to figure out the right answer to a math problem as if he were piecing together a riddle. Even without knowing or even using the proper formulas learned in school to solve them.

It was also a bit of surprise since he was doing rather poorly with his studies. All his teachers had pretty much painted him as academically hopeless. It was only Megan, with her stubborn insistence that Howell just lazy, slapdash and obstinate to follow proper instructions, who believed that her brother was simply not putting much effort to reach his potential. Normally, such a discovery would probably put Megan in a joyous state. It was after all proof that she was right that her brother was not stupid as everyone believed. Unfortunately, a series of misunderstandings led it for Megan to perceive her brother's gifts as a potential criminal career.

It started out as an accident. It happened when Howell was around thirteen-years-old after successfully slithering away from another one of Megan's tedious lectures. He was hiding at the grocery to wait until Megan's ire runs out of steam. He was completely bored to bits when he came across a piece of paper that had a curious puzzle on it. Within minutes, he managed to crack the code to find the solution to every single one of it. Mumbles and her brother Ed were both completely astonished when they discovered what Howell had done.

It turned out that the paper was a page of Ed's homework. Mumbles, perhaps being the daughter of self-employed parents, was gifted with a strong business sense. Within no time, Howell developed a short career answering pages of difficult math homework for a fee… which did not sit very well with Megan when she discovered the spoils of his labours when she was cleaning the house and inspected her brother's room one Saturday afternoon.

"Tell me the truth, Howell. Nana is out with her bridge club and won't be back until supper time, so she isn't here to save you. You better tell the truth where you got this right now or, I swear! You will be in deeper trouble than you already are," Megan demanded as she waved an expensive looking pair of shoes that obviously didn't look like it came from the Bargain Store that their grandmother likes to shop in

"And I'm telling you for the umpteenth time, I did not steal it!" Howell shot back in terror as finding himself trapped at the corner of his bed, having no choice but to face his sister's wrath since she left him no option for escape

"I suppose you'll be saying next that you actually got a job," Megan retorted sarcastically

"Yes," Howell replied, averting his eyes as he mumbled under his breath, "In a manner of speaking…"

"Alright then, spill it all out, Howell Jenkins!" Megan glowered threateningly over the smaller boy, "Where did you get the money? The truth Howell! The truth!"

Howell immediately cowered down in fear, immediately recognizing that this was one of Megan's scary spells that can only be pacified when she was given what she wanted. "Ed Reilly and a couple of his friends gave them to me as payment."

"Payment?" Megan stared at her brother in alarm, and towered over him even more threateningly, "Payment for what?"

"Homework," The boy replied meekly, "They've been paying me to do their math homework for the past couple of weeks."

Megan frowned upon hearing his confession. She folded her arms and tapped her foot crossly in disbelief, "Howell Jenkins, I told you to tell me the truth."

"It is the truth!" Howell shot back

"Howell, Edward Reilly is in Year 13! Do you expect me to believe that you are actually solving advanced level arithmetic when you're barely passing Year 8 Math?" Megan cried out in exasperation

"I can't control what you expect of me and I can't explain how I'm doing it, but I am telling the truth!" Howell yelled back defensively

Seeing her brother's determined reaction, Megan backed away and took a deep breath to calm herself down, before facing her brother once again to humor him, "Alright. They paid you to do their homework. How much?"

"At least fifty pence a problem, depending on how difficult it is," Howell replied in a quieter tone, "It's usually Mumbles who negotiates the price…"

"Felicia is on this as well?" Megan gawked at her brother in surprise, "Well, I will definitely have a word with Mrs. Reilly about this!"

"Don't get her in trouble! She's only trying to help!" Howell replied automatically, "And it's not like we're doing anything illegal. As far as I know, there is no crime against doing someone's homework."

"But that doesn't make it right," Megan sighed in defeat, "Doing homework is supposed to help with your book learning. If someone else does it for you, it's like cheating. Well, it's obvious that Edward Reilly and his friends will eventually pay for it when school finals come around. But with you, Howell, you're selling out your integrity and allowing these boys to take advantage of you."

Howell frowned. He didn't see it that way until his sister pointed it out. This was one of those rare moments wherein he actually found himself agreeing with his sister's logic. All at once, he started feeling worried that he actually had been taken advantage of without him realizing it, "Do you think I should have charged more?"

"HOWELL!" Megan glared at her brother incredulously,

"It's a joke!" Howell raised his arms defensively as he shrank back once again to try to escape his sister's fury

"That is not even relatively funny!" Megan scoffed. Then without warning, she suddenly burst into tears and made her way to the chair by Howell's study table, "Why are you always like this? Not taking things seriously and going about things! Insensitively not caring about other people's feelings! You're a horrible boy!"

Howell gaped in surprise as his sister sank into a series of uncontrollable sobs in front of him. The Megan he knew almost never cried. The only time he had seen Megan burst in tears in front of him like this was way back during their mother's funeral. As much as he hated to admit it, it was really him who was the family crybaby. While Megan rarely showed public affection either, the tough love she pushes at him when he has his occasional sulking or tantrum spell was in fact as much a comfort as the half-remembered hugs his mother used to give him.

Almost instantly, a pang of guilt shot right through him, followed by panic. He didn't know what to do other than to anxiously rush by his sister's side, kneel down to her level, and keep from bursting out crying as well, "Megan… I'm sorry for being so horrible! I promise I won't do it again. Stop crying, please?"

Megan started laughing nervously between sobs upon seeing her brother's reaction. She wiped the corners of her eyes with her fingers before reaching out to gently run her fingers through the younger brother's dark coffee-coloured locks, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dumped it all on you. This really isn't about you at all."

"What is it about then?" Howell whispered. Anything that would set off Megan like this was sure to be very serious.

"Gareth got offered a job in Cardiff," Megan replied with a nervous smile, looking as if she was ready to burst into tears again

"Gareth? He's leaving?" Howell blinked in surprise. A little bit stunned at his sister's revelation. His face scrunched up in thought.

As far as he can remember, Gareth-whatsisface was approximately boyfriend #21. His sister had a history of dropping boyfriends the minute she discovers their first flaw. He should have known that something was up, since this Gareth-fellow had been around long enough for him to remember his first name. He and Mumbles even caught them snogging in a dark corner last a few months ago (a very gross scene that he would prefer to erase from memory). But he really didn't realize that it was that serious for Megan to react like this at the idea of him leaving.

"He asked me if I wanted to go with him," Megan continued, looking a bit embarrassed

Howell stared at his sister, completely speechless with shock at the revelation. Now THAT, he didn't expect! Since their mother's death, their worlds revolved around each other. The thought that her sister would actually consider a life without him never occurred to him. All of a sudden, he couldn't help feeling a bit queasy in the stomach. He didn't realize that his sister was expecting an answer from him until he noticed that she was looking at him expectantly. He averted his eyes, feeling a little bit ashamed for having those selfish thoughts. "Are you going?"

"I don't know," Megan replied with another sniff, "Nana Carrie's no longer a spry chicken. Besides, I still have a bratty little brother on the verge of going on the bad to look after."

"And Cardiff is a bit too… well… too busy. Even our old house wasn't like that. You'll be homesick," Howell added helpfully

"Well, we won't be living IN Cardiff. Gareth mentioned a quaint little borough just at the edge of town…" Megan began defensively, but her voice trailed as a guilty look fell on her face

Howell bowed his head so his sister won't see the expression on his face as his heart sank with the realization that Megan had already considered going away as a possible option.

"Gareth said that it'll take at least a year before things get settled… and lots of things can happen in a year… Oh, shoot!" Megan continued on reassuringly, seeing her brother's reaction, but in the end, she buried her face in her hands as she fought another onslaught of tears, "Mother warned us about sacrifices we have to make when we become adults. I never realized that becoming one can be so complicated."

Howell reached out for the hem of his sister's sweater and started fiddling with it with his fingers. It was a childish habit of his that he hasn't quite outgrown. It usually signals that he's mulling over what something he wants to say that he felt very important and wanted her complete attention. As much as he hated Megan's guts most of the time, he truly didn't want his sister to be unhappy. Being forced to make this decision was definitely making her unhappy. Pain in the arse or not, Megan already sacrificed almost more than eight years of her life taking their Mother's place for his sake, "But… Mother also said that it's okay to be selfish once and a while."

The older girl looked at her little brother in surprise.

Howell finally lifted his chin and puffed his cheeks in exasperation. Another childish habit he did when he was feeling irritated, particularly when people can't get a hint he's giving right away. He let out a slow patient breath as he stood up and brushed his knees before giving his sister a very serious expression, making him look much older than his thirteen years, "Look sis, you've been taking care of me since you were fourteen. Well, I'm almost fourteen now. I think I'm already old enough to take care of myself. I don't think Mother would have wanted you to be her substitute all your life. So stop blubbering, go find a dark corner with Gareth and snog all you---"

"HOWELL JENKINS! WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" Megan cried out, completely scandalized, her face turning into the shade of a ripe tomato

"I give and I give but nothing satisfies this woman!" Howell raised his arms to the heavens over emotionally in mock indignation

Despite of herself, Megan burst out laughing uncontrollably. This time, she was dabbing the corners of her eyes because of her mirth, "Since when did you become so caring and wise."

"I've always been caring and wise," The younger boy sniffed in resentment, "It's not my fault that you're too self-absorbed to notice."

"I'll ignore that," Megan stated with a slight frown. But it was evident that she couldn't hide the true feelings of happiness behind her mask, "Just when I thought I know everything about you, you do something to completely surprise me."

Howell frowned at that. He didn't think that his sister knew everything about him at all. But she uncharacteristically pulled him towards her before he could think of a retort. And the thought completely left him when she tightened her hold into a rare hug.

"Thank you," She whispered with great emotional over his head

"But even though you won't be around anymore after you go off with Gareth," Howell whispered back, "Don't completely forget about me and leave me all alone, alright?"

Megan laughed at that, "I don't think any person, or any stretch of land can completely separate us from each other even if we wanted to."

Only then did Howell return her embrace. Now he knew for sure that Megan's appearance of unending inner strength was as much a façade as his pretense that he hated her guts entirely. She needed him as much as he needed her. So he closed his eyes and made a silent vow that from that day onward, he would do everything he could in his power to protect her. The same way she looked after him all these years.

End of Chapter Two  
To be continued.

Author's Squawk:

This chapter turned out very different from how I originally started it. I actually wanted to end it differently as well, but I didn't want to turn the chapter into an epic and not know how to end it. .

Anywayz, very big thank you to Piggi, who did my beta. Thanks to everyone who commented on this fic! I was very happy to see the DWJ fanfic writers whose works I admired when I searching through for DWJ fanfics review the first chapter of this fic! Specially Mimea, whose HMC fanfic, "Natural Beauty", I very highly recommend! The first "M" rating DWJ fic in and very nicely done. Please read it! .

As for this story, Howl kinda still acts a little bit OOC here, I find. But hopefully in the next couple of chapters, we start to see him evolve into how he is as a grown-up. Hmmm… maybe the right word is de-evolve. .

Anywayz, comments and criticisms are very welcome.

Ja!  
Ina-chan


	3. In which there are a lot of assumptions

_**Disclaimer: **_"Howl's Moving Castle" and all its characters belong to Diana Wynne Jones. "The Queen of Melanesia" is created by Neil Gaiman. The "Dirtdemon" and everything else not part of the original HMC universe are figments of my very strange imagination.

October 30, 2005

_**Yn y Dechrau  
Chapter Three: **In which there are a lot of assumptions, stress, anxiety and a strong sense of doom  
_by Ina-chan

A shrill screech, like a yowling cat in unearthly pain, pierced loudly in the air. Then again, Felicia Reilly (a.k.a. Mumbles) never prided herself as a violin virtuoso. In fact, she hated playing the damned instrument. The only reason she agreed to take lessons when she was eight was because of her parents' insistence that she take up playing a musical instrument or a hobby. It was from some stupid parenting book which advised such activities build character and pull shy children like Mumbles out of their shells.

So Mumbles then decided that the shrill shrieking of a violin was the best instrument to comply with her parents' wishes and create the maximum amount of misery at the same time. She actually debated between a violin and a tuba. The violin won simply because rubbing strings to make a godawful noise seemed less of an effort than blowing into a tube. As expected, her parents finally gave in to their daughter's will after three days of enthusiastic practice, and pretty much left her alone. Nowadays, she only took out the offending instrument to express her displeasure with the world.

To conclude that Mumbles was unhappy at this moment would be an understatement.

Howell, who was standing by her door and who just happened to be the reason why Mumbles was throwing this specific tantrum, was quite unhappy as well. Being subjected to his best friend's onslaught was not making the situation much easier. Though like every unpleasant thing that he had been enduring the past fourteen years, Howell had accepted that this was just another burden that he had to tolerate.

It was true that all teen-agers have their share of angst against the world. Howell, however, had always felt that he had been given more than his fair share of unhappiness. While all the boys in the Ninth Year had already caught up physique-wise with their female counterparts, the alarm in his biological clock was yet to set off to adolescent mode. Howell still looked no older than twelve. The honour of being the runt of the pack brought a number of problems, most especially at an age when getting girls to take him seriously was the priority in a boy's life. Then there was also the fact that Howell's taste in women had been quite different from boys his age. Not to mention the way he pursued them…

"You joined the home economics club, because of **_HER_**?" Mumbles couldn't help letting a flicker of surprised emotion to pass across her normally stoic features. Then again, it was really only around Howell that she even allowed to show any semblance of emotion. That was a few months back when the school year started… during the after-school routine of walking home together… the precise moment when Mumbles found out the idiotic reason why her best friend would openly make a fool of himself.

"When love calls, mortal men cannot help but answer," Howell simply replied grandly.

Mumbles stared at her friend in disbelief. "Have you completely gone insane? Look, this is really stupid. It's one thing to have a school-boy-crush, but to actually believe that something will come out of this hopeless cause of yours is just going to put in you in a lot of grief."

"It's not hopeless! Love knows no obstacles and boundaries. Juliet--" Howell remarked.

"Howell, this is not Romeo and Juliet, alright? Your obstacle is not a stupid family feud," Mumbles interrupted irritably. "Juliet Farrell is the bloody home economics teacher. She's twenty-five years old and you're… you're… jail bait!"

"Oh, you of little faith…" Howell let out a patient sigh before patting the girl's arm. "You should know about this, my dear Felicia, being a girl yourself and with your obsession with the romantic prose."

"There's nothing romantic about your sudden lapses of insanity," Mumbles replied blandly with a frown. She had long given up her poetry books in exchange for the dusty reference textbooks in the village public library relating to abnormal psychology thanks to her best friend's erratic behaviour. "And I resent that comment. What does being a girl have anything to do with this current mundane obsession of yours? I personally have better things to do with my time than play house or put war paint on my face."

"Mock it then, if you must. But this 'mundane obsession' really opened my eyes at how women see things," Howell stated solemnly, "and here I was, living with women all my life and I really had no idea how your mind really works."

Mumbles arched an eyebrow at that. "Well pray tell, how exactly do our mind work?"

"I learned that while the fastest route to a man's heart is his stomach, the fastest way to catch a girls heart is through her vanity, "and speaking of which… you really should considering some layering and highlights for your hair, taming the unibrow, and maybe a teeny bit of rouge on your cheeks…"

"If that's a tactic you learned on how to woo a girl, then you need a lot more help than attending a home economics club," Mumbles muttered, not bothering to mask the annoyance in her voice.

Howell stared at her with in utter mortification, "Why would I want to woo you? It'll be like incest… **_UGH_**! And you're the one who always tries to pain **_ME_** as a social deviant!"

"Oh, wow. Thanks a lot," Mumbles answered in a sarcastic tone that sounded almost like she was torn between relief and feeling offended, before switching to her usual serious monotone. "But aren't you afraid that everyone will think you're a queer?"

"Because I joined the home economics club?" Howell replied incredulously. He looked as if he was going to add something else, when he suddenly stopped at his tracks as a thoughtful look fell on his face. He then turned to his best friend with a very serious expression. "Do you really think everyone will think I'm gay?"

"It's a big possibility," Mumbles admitted.

"Can I ask you a personal question then? Give me your honest opinion as a woman?" Howell continued on.

"Alright…" Mumbles answered hesitantly.

"Is it true that women don't make a big deal about getting naked in front of gay men?" Howell asked solemnly.

This time, it was Mumbles who stared at her best friend in utter mortification. Without even bothering to give a reply, she turned away from him and started walking faster.

"What?" Howell called out after her, "You said that you would give me your honest opinion!"

"People will think you're gay until you open your mouth," Mumbles argued, "Then they'll realize you're really a pervert."

Howell laughed as he quickened his pace to catch up with her, "Well then, your-all-knowing-wisdom-ness, what do you think in your opinion is the club that I should have joined to earn a shred of respectability."

"I don't know," Mumbles shrugged. "You've always obsessed over rugby, why didn't you try out for the rugby team?"

"And play what position?" The boy replied with a loud sarcastic snort, "Jeff Malcomson's ball? No thank you. I may love the sport dearly but not at the cost of dying for it."

Thus, the second problem that traditionally fell with honour of being the runt of the pack… Jeff Malcomson, two years older, two feet taller and two times Howell's total body weight… a very scary Year 11 student who happened to have taken his hobby of bullying smaller underclassmen to an art form.

Howell's first encounter with him and his friends involved an after-school impromptu rugby match in the school yard which resulted a bloody nose, a sprained wrist and Megan having an embarrassing screaming match with Jeff Malcomson's father. Of course the screaming match incident only made things worse. On top of being weary of Jeff Malcomson's bullying, he had to dodge guerrilla attacks from the older boy's minions too.

"You're just being melodramatic," Mumbles sighed.

"I am not!" Howell shot back indignantly. "While it looks very cool when you see it on the telly, you gain a very different perspective when seven guys twice your size loom over you that split second before you find yourself in the bottom of a scrum. I'd take the sight of naked boobies over that horror anytime."

"Well, you do realize that there's a certain flaw to your logic," Mumbles countered, "if women think you're gay, they're not likely going to have sex with you."

"That's not right!" Howell exclaimed in utter horror. "All that naked action leading to nothing? That's not right at all!"

At that time, Mumbles couldn't help bursting in a peal of uncharacteristic laughter. It was noteworthy to point out that anything that has a semblance of an argument between the two of them almost always ended that way. If there was one thing consistent about Howell's flightiness and unpredictability, was the fact that he hated confrontations. Anything that had the potential of turning into a quarrel was often quickly diverted or intentionally ignored by him.

Thus formerly mentioned scene regarding the battle of the wills involving an unhappy Mumbles with her violin, and a displeased Howell standing by her door was completely out of character for the both of them. Though in all fairness, everyone around them had been on edge for the past couple of weeks as their entire village buzzed with great excitement. After all, they don't hold a wedding everyday.

"If you don't stop right this instant," Howell, who finally had enough, stated in a clear, expressionless tone over the violin's screaming, "you're going to regret it."

As if to further infuriate him, Mumbles passed the bow over the instrument to let out another ear-piercing wail with great flourish. But before she could finish, all the strings snapped suddenly, causing the long grating sound to come to a complete halt with a surprised squeak.

"You owe me a set of strings," Mumbles stated calmly in her soft, almost inaudible whisper, as she returned her instrument into the case.

"Blame your ruthless playing for that. You knew it was just a matter of time before your violin finally had it with how you abuse it!" Howell replied huffily.

"I'm sure you had a hand in it. Accidents when you're around seem to happen on just the right moment to pull a situation in your favour," Mumbles retorted matter-of-factly

"If that were true, Megan wouldn't get her way all the time," Howell muttered grumpily. "The wedding is in five hours, and you're not ready."

Mumbles glared at him and crossed her arms. "In case you've forgotten Howell, your sister is the one who's getting married! If you need to fuss over something, go to your house and cause chaos there."

"I will not have you marching down the aisle with the rest of the bridesmaids looking like your usual self," Howell replied as he deposited a big metallic make-up case on her study table for emphasis, "and your Aunt Josie agrees with me. She practically shoved this monstrosity on me."

The girl froze and eyed the case as if it contained the plague, "NO! I agreed the wear the dress, but I will allow you to not gussy me up like a harlot of Sodom and Gomorrah!"

Howell glared at her irritably, "I've never made anyone look like a harlot of anything!"

Which was true.

As Mumbles predicted, Howell's reputation took an interesting turn when people found out about the home economics club. It was quickly forgotten the evening the home economics club worked with the drama club to hold a variety show fundraiser, wherein Howell enthusiastically volunteered to work backstage. It was discovered by accident that he actually had the eye and the natural talent to make girls look very pretty.

"I bet you acquired it after all those years of spying on Megan's sleep-over parties," Mumbles remarked in amusement that evening.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might actually be gifted," Howell shot back. "This could be my future calling."

"Riiiight," Mumbles retorted, "primping yourself and applying war paint in front of a mirror for five hours will take you a long ways in life."

"Laugh all you want," Howell replied in the same manner, "but the last laugh will be mine when you see me surrounded by my harem of beautiful Supermodels as they strut their stuff on the catwalk in Milan."

"You do realize that you only make yourself look pathetic at the lengths you would do to get girls to notice you," Mumbles commented blandly.

"When you're the underdog, you milk every chance you get," Howell sighed pathetically in agreement, despite himself.

"And it all started for the sake of the opportunity of zipping up some poor drama club girl's dress, obviously," Mumbles said idly

"Why is it that you always think the worst of me? Do I look like I'm some kind of perverted sex maniac?" Howell shot back irritably

"Your words, Howell. Your words, not mine," Mumbles replied smugly

"I hate you."

He was teased and persecuted mercilessly by the boys in his class at first, but nobody was laughing after the popular girls in the senior classes had started seeking out to befriend a mere Ninth Grader nobody like him.

"Vanity," Howell sighed, clasping his hands over his chest theatrically, "who would have thought that one of the seven deadly sins could actually bring about a greater good."

"You are a very sad and disturbing little boy," Mumbles muttered under her breath in disbelief.

Nonetheless, no one could dispute the fact that Howell did indeed have a gift. He would later on reveal that it wasn't just a matter of making girls look pretty. As if to fulfill the words his grandmother uttered when she first laid eyes on him, whether it be a craft, a carving, or simply creating something with his hands... with the exception of drawing (which was rather odd for someone to be quite creative and artistic with everything else), Howell proved that he was gifted with a unique sight. Combined with his imagination, it almost seemed that anything he touched turned into something beautiful. Like magic.

Of course, none of that soothed Mumbles' feelings. The heart of the current argument was not because of the question of Howell's skill. It was a matter of principle! Mumbles had never allowed anyone to bully her into doing something she didn't want to do, not her peers, her brother, or even her parents. She spent all these years building a strong impenetrable shell around her to keep others from making her submit to their will. Howell would not be an exception!

"If ever, it will be a vast improvement over the homeless look that you perfected so much," Howell, whose patience finally completely ran out, continued on tactlessly.

"Oh thank you for being so considerate of my feelings," The girl spat back, "why are you acting more pig-headed than usual?"

"I should ask **_YOU_** that question!" Howell retorted in strained voice. "Why do you have to join with everyone else and make this more difficult than it already is?"

"Howell," Mumbles sighed, attempting trying to calm down, "I'm just a little afterthought in this whole affair. Nobody will care if I show up in a burlap sack. Whether or not I look like the Queen of Melanesia or a bag lady is simply not important."

"It's important to me," Howell replied in a quiet voice.

There was something unusual with how he spoke that instantly erased all trace of the girl's irritation. Mumbles looked at her best friend in surprise, and clearly saw something that she didn't notice before… or at least Howell had skilfully hidden underneath his usual infuriating demeanour. All at once, Mumbles felt her shell crack.

Howell's true feelings have always been very subtle. Very few people saw beneath the outrageous mask he liked to wear. If it weren't for the fact that Mumbles knew her best friend very well, she probably wouldn't have noticed it at all. There was an unmistaken aura of anxiety enveloping his entire being. It was like watching a person desperately trying to hide an itch. On hindsight, she realized now that her friend's odd behaviour already started several weeks before. Just roughly before his sister announced that they decided to pull the wedding ceremony almost half a year ahead of the original plan.

The ceremony itself was supposed to have been just a simple affair with family and friends. But the village would have nothing of the thought that beloved Ma'am Jenkin's only granddaughter quietly spirited away without much celebration. Mumbles had always suspected, however, that everyone in their boring village just wanted a reason to hold a party. Just to have a little change of pace from the yearly mediocre events that the Social Community their Parish organized. Then again, it wasn't everyday that their village's favourite girl gets married. Before anyone can blink, everyone was pitching to put in motion to make it the perfect fairytale wedding that any girl could possibly desire. The chaos that washed through the Jenkins household the past weeks was enough to drive anyone up on edge.

Then there was Lloyd Jenkins.

It wasn't a secret that Howell was never close to his father. Mumbles had only seen Lloyd Jenkins possibly once or twice in her lifetime, since her best friend's family had moved to their town. Howell, himself, almost never talked about him. But Mumbles knew for a fact that Howell's father was one of the few things that would cause Howell to instantly lapse into his weird moods.

Right then the question of whether Howell's father would actually make it on time for his own daughter's wedding was the top priority Father-related problem of the day. Lloyd was supposed to have arrived the day before, but a flight delay prevented him from arriving until early that morning. Mumble's father had gone to pick up Lloyd in the airport in the city, but with only five hours to go before the ceremony, they had yet to arrive.

With a defeated sigh, Mumbles walked over and sat by her study table. She set her framed mirror on her table and looked at her friend's face with a stern expression through their reflections. "You owe me a set of replacement strings and your first born child."

Howell gave the girl a small grateful smile, his good humour slowly returning as he took his place behind her with a hairbrush at hand in order to start working on her hair. "And what do you intend to do with my first born child. Put it in a boiling pot and have it for dinner?"

"It tastes best with tomato sauce, basil and just a pinch salt and pepper," Mumbles rejoined mercilessly, and prepared for another round of verbal jousting.

To her surprise, Howell didn't reply. He simply continued on with the task of brushing and braiding her hair in silence for the next couple of minutes that Mumbles couldn't help feeling a bit worried that he had definitely already fallen deep into one of his weird moods again.

"Are you sure you should be here, Howell?" Mumbles finally spoke in a serious tone, "Megan might need you more if…"

"Gareth's already there. Megan never needed me in the first place," Howell interrupted a-matter-of-factly.

"What happened?" Mumbles asked quietly.

Howell paused, as if debating whether to speak or not. Just as the girl was about to let it go, he suddenly spoke in that same uncharacteristic small voice, "She was crying last night after my father's telephone call."

"I'm sure your father will be here on time," Mumbles said reassuringly. "My Tad may drive like maniac, but he always gets where he needs to be safely and on time."

Howell looked still uncertain if he wanted to share what he was about to say or not, but spoke once again at the last minute before Mumbles was about to dismiss the subject. "She's been crying a lot when she thinks no one's around to hear her. Something's happened and it's making her unhappy. And there's nothing I could do about it."

"Well, getting married is a big deal," Mumbles reasoned out, "it could be just a case of pre-marital stress."

"It's not… It's even before…" Howell began to protest but his voice trailed off to silence.

Mumbles frowned but decided not to prod. She knew from experience that Howell was a lot like a stubborn tom cat. The more he's forced to things before he's ready, the more he dug his claws in resistance. So she decided to use a different approach.

"The way I see it, the problem isn't really about Megan," Mumbles stated thoughtfully. "This is really all about you."

"What?" Howell made a bewildered scowl at his friend's comment

"You," Mumbles said with authoritative flourish, "have a Sister Complex!"

"A what?" Howell echoed incredulously

"Remember the story of Oedipus?"

"That guy who killed his father and married his mother?"

"Precisely," Mumbles confirmed. "The Oedipal Complex states that all boys have this strong attachment to their mothers and have a tendency to feel threatened with any relationship their mothers may have with another male... But in your case, it's pretty much your sister who raised you. So it's only natural for you to feel very threatened with your sister getting married."

Howell stopped what he was doing and made a face like he bit into a lemon wedge. "That is the most disturbing thing I ever heard."

"It's really not a big deal," Mumbles continued on, "It's common knowledge that men will seek out mates who have the same qualities as their mothers. The same goes with women looking for traits in future husbands similar to their fathers."

"I am **_NOT_** jealous of Gareth," Howell stated firmly as he stuck a bobby pin on his friend's head with more enthusiasm than needed

"**_OW!_** That doesn't give you the right to pick on me," Mumbles growled back. "Besides, didn't you say before that you hated his guts?"

"Just because I don't like him, does not mean anything," Howell protested indignantly between clenched teeth, "and I do not look for my sister's qualities in women I like."

"Suuuure," Mumbles replied

"**_I DON'T!_**" Howell insisted with great conviction, glaring at the girl's reflection as if to make his point. "Juliet is nothing like Megan. She's very kind and understanding. Not once had I heard her raise her voice at anyone. She's very graceful… and ladylike. She's… she's… blonde…"

"She's almost the same age as your sister," Mumbles interjected mischievously

"I hate you," Howell replied automatically, though Mumbles was far gone with her teasing to notice that he didn't reply with his usual conviction

Mumbles fell into a fit of uncontrollable snickers. "Howell, regardless of what you claim, Miss Farrell is a mere schoolboy infatuation. Otherwise, you would be more broken-hearted than you are after hearing the news that she's practically married to your soon-to-be-brother-in-law's best friend."

"Not only do you plunge the dagger straight to my heart, you just had to twist it painfully for your pleasure, don't you?" Howell muttered sulkily

"Trust me. Years from now, we will remember this conversation and have a good laugh, as the woman you will truly fall in love with stands by your side," Mumbles uttered wisely, "and she will be fire-spirited shrew who will put you in your proper place, and to suit your tastes, quite possibly, a woman twice your age."

"And I suppose she has a habit of falling into lapses of evil cackles and rides a broom in the dead of the night for good measure?" Howell added

"Broom? What decade are you living in?" Mumbles scoffed. "She'll be riding a Dirtdemon L200 model. Cleans like a dream with 20 head attachments for unusual and hard to reach places."

"Ah, she cleans too…" Howell replied with a small smile.

Mumbles sighed inwardly in relief upon seeing her friend's grin from his reflection on the mirror. She was about to make another cheerful comment when her breath suddenly got caught in her throat in surprise as the boy wrapped his arms around her from behind, in a tight bear hug. While Howell was never affectionate with her in the past, it wasn't really so much as Howell hugging her that caught her unawares. It was the realization that he was trembling.

"Howell…" Her voice came out strained and frightened, not bothering to cover up her own anxiety with her usual monotone. She tentatively reached out to put her hand over his, but for some odd reason, something made her stop. "Howell, what's wrong?"

"I don't know," Howell whispered, but the fear in his rasp was undeniable.

Despite her past fascination with divinations and fortunetelling, Mumbles never claimed to have possessed such powers. She wanted to give him a reassuring reply. She wanted to be the dependable best friend. She wanted to tell him that it was natural to feel sad or scared or whatever it was he feeling because Megan's marriage was a big change in his life. But for some strange reason, she couldn't do any of those things.

As Howell clung to her, like a drowning man holding on for dear life, she sensed it. An overpowering sense of doom swirled about her like the frozen breath of the winter wind. She couldn't understand it. She doubted that she'd even understand what happened then even if she poured through every psychology book in the National Library. Back then, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to be in the same room as him.

It was frustrating.

To realize that despite all her efforts, her hard impenetrable shell wasn't enough to keep her immune.

End of Chapter Three  
To be continued.

* * *

Author's squawk: 

After so many months! I finally got around to getting a final draft that satisfied me! This is probably draft # 10. It's ridiculous! That's the problem with weaving a tapestry from different corners all at once, sometimes the picture you get in the middle gets all warped!Anywayz, this fic is connected to the two other HMC fics I'm writing. The NC-17 version of "Bees" is in its 3rd variation (around 30 finished). "Angels, Demons & Wickedness" is in the middle of being revamped… I originally meant it to be written under the Wicked's POV… but I realized that there is this opportunity to make things more interesting by throwing in the Demon and the Angel's POV.

I'd appreciate comments about what you think the direction of the fic is going. Or even your predictions on what will happen in the future. It actually gives me a very good idea if my fic is heading towards the right direction based on your comments. So please, feel free to point out inconsistencies between chapters (or with the canon storyline). Though don't be upset if you feel like your comments re: canon inconsistency is ignored. Just a hint with my storytelling style, if I correct the inconsistency, it's a righteous mistake. If I keep quiet about an inconsistency with the canon… it means that there is a major storyline twist that's to be revealed in the future (which will hopefully make sense with the canon). .

Ah! I must stop babbling now. Comments, criticisms, click the review button please!

Ja!  
Ina-chan


	4. In which there are various conflicts

_May 2, 2006_

**Yn y Dechrau  
Chapter Four: In which there are various conflicts and a great explosion**  
by Ina-chan

In most stories, heroes and heroines mostly live ordinary boring lives in the beginning. Things don't get very much exciting until the appearance of the "conflict" which will eventually lead to the "climactic ending". Before the appearance of the fated plotline twist in a story, however, hints of clues are dropped early in the beginning. It is a term called "foreshadowing." In Howell's case, the foreshadowing of change came rather subtle that even on hindsight, it wasn't noticeable it at all… probably.

The trouble all started with Seymour Butts.

Seymour, aside from having well-meaning but thoughtless parents, was the runt of the school pack and was Jeff Malcomson's favourite victim. That was, until the year Howell walked through the school doors along with the new batch of Grade Nines. It was a simple recipe for disaster rooted from the circumstance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

First was Howell witnessing Jeff Malcomson methods of torment for the first time. It was the end of the first day of the school year and all the students were filing out of their classrooms to head home. That was when a group of big, loud, jeering, laughing boys thundered through the hallways as they pushed a small terrified Tenth Year amongst themselves as if they were passing a rugby ball. Despite the obvious terror that Seymour Butts was being subjected to, no one in the hallways who witnessed the atrocity offered any assistance. In fact, the crowd even parted like the Red Sea to let the rowdy group pass. 

Then, there was the sudden strong sense of injustice that welled within Howell with what he was witnessing. For as long as he could remember, Nana Kerrie ingrained within him and his sister the values of their family's short, but proud history. When both his grandfather and great grandfather were young men, they bravely answered the call of King and country during the two Great Wars. Nana Kerrie had always instilled in her grandchildren that strong pride of standing firm to defend their beliefs and to help those who were weaker.

Add to the formula a very pretty girl from Year Eleven by the name of Stephanie Church, along with her equally attractive group of friends, who happened to be standing nearby, just waiting to be impressed by a show of righteous chivalry.

Mix that together with childish foolishness and the typical Year Nine naïveté of the high school social structure… those were pretty much the main reasons on what spurred Howell to even open his mouth.

"What did you say?" Jeff Malcomson's deep voice boomed loudly and clearly across the hall, instantly causing all incessant school corridor chatter to come to an eerie and complete halt. Those who were standing within a meter radius around Howell, scattered and scrambled away to safety.

Seeing the opportunity, Seymour had fled the scene. Howell and Jeff Malcomson faced each other like the proverbial David and Goliath with the shocked school population as their audience. Everyone was watching the hallway drama with baited breath as the older boy's shadow loomed over the smaller boy threateningly. Howell quickly realized the wisdom of turning a blind eye when such circumstances occurred. He probably would have been forgiven, being a tiny newbie freshman, if he backed down. But with his courage gone, all that was left was his pride, which unfortunately wouldn't allow him to turn tail.

"I just thought…that… what you… were doing…wasn't..." Howell replied hoarsely, his throat becoming painfully dry all of the sudden, "…nice…"

A smirk curled the corner of the older boy's lips as he turned to his companions, and jostled them amidst amused chuckles. "Did you hear that boys? He thinks that we should play nice."

Jeff Malcomson's friends roared loudly. With that, Jeff Malcomson turned his attention back to Howell's smaller form. "You want to know what I think, runt? I think you have other things to do with your time other than sticking your nose into other people's business. You wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours, right?"

In Year Six's General Science class, students were introduced to the concept that in order for certain animal species to survive, they have a built-in "fight or flight" response within their brains. The prey's brain, in the presence of danger, transmits certain signals through "neuroreceptors" to elicit changes in the body, such as a surge in adrenaline, dilation of the pupils, and stimulation of the lungs to ensure more oxygen is pumped to the brain. All of this happens in order to for the prey to flee from danger or to their fight predators in defence and hopefully it would be enough divert the predator it can flee. Human beings, being a species within the animal kingdom, have this basic instinct. But Mother Nature was not counting for humans to evolve into stubborn and rebellious creatures who foolishly believed that going against the basic survival instincts that she had provided was a good thing.

One can argue that the whole thing happened due to Howell simply overcoming his limitations as a human being. Then again, there was also the fact that even as a child, Howell was a flighty git. While it may have started with Seymour Butts, the string of events that happened afterwards seemed too convenient to be blamed merely on coincidence. Call it fate, or destiny, or karma… or even as how Mumbles colourfully described it as: Mother Nature's way of eliminating the rejects from the gene pool. In the end, it seemed to amount to the fact that Howell had the penchant for getting himself trapped within the webs of his own making.

Because at that moment, Howell saw from the corner of his eye the very pretty Stephanie Church and her group of equally pretty friends giggle amongst themselves upon hearing the older boy's comments. As many foolish men recorded in history who had fallen for the same reason, Pride brought about Howell's downfall. Before his brain even realized what he was doing, the words had already left his lips.

"I think the fact that you find me pretty tells me that you have other things to worry about than picking on those who can't to fight back."

A collective gasp echoed across the room as Jeff Malcomson and his cronies stared at him with unmistakable shock. By this time, Howell's brain had pretty much caught on with the impulsivity of his tongue. It didn't take a genius to figure out, as Jeff Malcomson grabbed him by the collar, that Howell's chances for survival had dropped drastically, possibly beyond resuscitation. Nonetheless, Howell met the older boy's glare impassively in silent defiance.

Then, a very scary smile slowly curled the ends of the older boy's lips as if a very pleasant thought came to his mind. "What's your name?"

"Howell… Jenkins…" Howell rasped, stiffening instinctively as he felt the older boy loosen his grip around his collar and the older boy's tree trunk-like arms wrap around the younger boy's shoulders tightly… but in a-not-so-friendly-way.

"Well then, Howell Jenkins," Jeff Malcomson stated as he gave his mates a knowing grin and led the helpless smaller boy through the now silent halls. "Since you seem to have caused us to be one person short of a friendly rugby match, I can speak for my entire crew that we would be most honoured if you allow us to play with you."

"Oh…" Howell squeaked as he forced a nervous smile, "…that's… flattering. But I… I need to go home. My… my… grandmother is…"

"I don't think I made myself clear, Jenkins," Jeff Malcomson interrupted as he gave the younger boy an enthusiastic squeeze before letting his voice drop to a low, threatening whisper. "You don't have a choice."

"Bullocks," Howell muttered under his breath as the older boys gathered around him. They led him through the hallways towards the direction of the school yard while the entire student body witnessing the event watched the silent procession. His eyes darted around desperately for help, but everyone who met his gaze quickly turned away, shamefully.

From that experience, Howell learned a valuable lesson.

"Heroism is overrated," Howell declared upon reflection, approximately one bloody nose, one sprained wrist, and an entertaining Megan-on-a-rampage-at-the-Malcomsons'-front-yard-show later.

"It was your own fault," Mumbles stated bluntly from the corner of Howell's bed, as she leafed through a big book resting on her lap. "You brought it upon yourself because you stupidly wanted to impress a couple of bubbleheads who don't even know you exist."

"And what should I have done then? Just stand there and let them continue with their bullying?" Howell demanded crossly

"If you really wanted to help," Mumbles replied monotonously, still not lifting her head from her book, "you would have run to get a teacher to stop it."

"You mean snitch?" Howell stared at his best friend with a horrified expression on his face. "Do you have any idea what would happen if people were to find out that I snitched on Jeff Malcomson?"

"And confronting him head on did you a lot of good?" Mumbles countered, finally looking up to give her best friend a bland stare.

Howell simply glared at her, not really knowing how to reply to that. Instead he pointed an accusing finger at her. "And you just stood there. Some friend you are!"

"So that you know," Mumbles replied, "I considered pulling the fire alarm to divert their attention."

"Eh?" Howell stopped with a start and stared at his friend in surprise. "You were going to do that for me?" His expression then changed to deadpan annoyance. "So why didn't you?"

Mumbles simply made a nonchalant shrug, still not bothering to take her attention away from her book. "I realized that it was a hundred times more entertaining to hear you screaming like a little girl."

"No charm or grace, whatsoever," Howell sniffed haughtily, nudging the girls leg with his foot as if to taunt her. "And you wonder why people question whether you're a real girl or not."

"Say what you must," Mumbles retorted expressionlessly. "It doesn't change the fact that I can still kick your sorry rear end with both hands tied behind my back."

"I never imagined that you were actually heartless in that cold demeanour of yours," Howell moaned pathetically as he made a theatrical show of cradling his injured arm. "The least thing you could do is feign sympathy to make a mortally wounded man feel better in his humiliation and misery."

Mumbles simply snorted in reply.

Howell frowned at her reaction, a more sombre expression crossing his features. "Seriously Felicia, weren't you the least bit worried over my pain?"

"Not as long as you make a spectacle of yourself for attention," Mumbles snorted, before finally lifting her eyes to gaze at him with an equally serious expression. "I'll start to worry when you stop."

The line on the boy's forehead furrowed deeper at the girl's odd statement. "Stop? Stop what?"

Mumbles stared at him in annoyed silence for a few moments, before averting her gaze and making a big show of closing her book with a loud clap. "I'm going home."

"Why are you mad all of the sudden?" Howell called out in bewilderment before stopping and giving his friend a strange look. "This isn't one of those supposedly weird once a month girl thing that Megan seems to have every day, is it?"

"Idiot," Mumbles shot back as she disappeared through his door, muttering what sounded like "and he calls me heartless" under her breath.

Unfortunately, the trouble started by Seymour Butts didn't end after Megan's intervention. The older boys' harassment continued in the form of indirect guerrilla-like attacks. While they were careful to never leave physical proof, the activity had left Howell of other students in school due to the uncertainty of their alliances. The slithering out techniques he mastered in order to avoid his older sister's wrath had proven to be quite useful. However, Howell quickly discovered that he had a few sympathetic allies in the older classes, mostly admirers of his older sister. It seemed ironic that the reputation of being Megan's little brother was almost like a protection charm. When Megan got married and moved away, Howell thought for a moment that her protective aura would leave with her.

Then the strange affair with Mumbles started. Perhaps it was because she was always close to him, but for some strange reason, Mumbles seemed to be around whenever Howell found himself in a situation where his slithering out could not save him. It was odder still that Jeff Malcomson and his friends seemed to scatter whenever she came near. It was one thing with Megan, he almost expected his sister to show up or have a hand whenever he was at his worst. But with Mumbles, it was just freaky. In fact, Howell was starting to get unnerved by it.

That exactly was what happened that fateful afternoon, when Jeff Malcomson's friends discovered that Howell had been sneaking out of the school through the side stairwell emergency exit on the days when the Rugby Club was busy practicing in the school field. Just as the three older boys were circling around him like a pack of wolves, Mumbles came trotting down the stairwell. In an instant, Jeff Malcomson's friends sauntered casually out of the door.

"Are they at it again?" Mumbles asked softly as she watched the emergency exit doors close. "Good thing I was passing by. I don't think your grandmother will buy another stray rugby ball accident if they roughed you up again."

"Why does this always happen?" Howell stated his thoughts out loud, still staring at the door with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Ed would tear Malcomson to shreds if he ever lays a finger on me. I don't think Malcomson or his sheep would dare to do anything to you if I'm around," Mumbles garbled with a shrug upon seeing Howell's expression before breaking into a playful grin. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

At another time, Howell may have brushed off the comment with a witty joke. But all stress and frustrations that had accumulated within him for the past couple of weeks with no way to let them out were starting to get to him. While he suspected that Nana Kerrie knew the problems he'd been having in school, she didn't let on what she knew, on account of his pride, perhaps. After making that speech to Megan about being able to take care of himself on his own before she left, Howell was not about to run to his grandmother like a crying three-year-old. All in all, the situation has bruised his ego rather badly, hearing his best friend state his inadequacies aloud only made things worse.

"Then it's lucky for me to have you come to my rescue all the time," Howell stated icily, in a tone more sharp than he intended

Mumbles froze and stared at him in shock before a hurt expression crossed her features. Seeing her reaction, Howell automatically felt sorry for snapping at her.

"Well, that's gratefulness for you," Mumbles muttered with uncharacteristic anger before an apology left Howell's lips. "If you're going to develop a spine, make sure you show it to the appropriate person."

Whatever guilt Howell felt instantly vanished upon hearing her words. He was well aware of his faults. Megan made sure of that. He already knew that he would never win a medal for bravery, but there was no need for Mumbles to rub it in like that. While he was grateful for her help, he didn't go on his hands and knees to ask for it.

"I never asked you to put your nose in my business," Howell shot back angrily. "If you're going to act all high and mighty about it, take your brother's protection and stuff it! I don't need your help!"

Mumbles reeled back as if she was struck across the face. Her lower lip quivered as angry tears pooled at the corner of her eyes.

"Stupid," came her almost inaudible whisper followed by an unsuccessfully suppressed sob. With that, she spun at her heels and burst through the emergency exit door, leaving Howell in the stairwell, feeling more alone than ever.

Seeing the girl run off made Howell feel like a complete heel. While he and his best friend had their usual tiffs and arguments, they never had a real fight. And, not once had he ever made her cry. And that made him angry.

Until that moment, Howell realized that it was really the first time that he truly felt angry. His ire burned within him like an uncontrollable blaze. He was angry at Megan for leaving and changing things, angry at Mumbles for suddenly acting like a girl, angry at Jeff Malcomson and his friends for torturing him, and most of all, angry at himself for letting all of it happen. His feelings clouded all other coherent thought in his head and pushed aside all his feelings save for the irrepressible desire to pacify his fury. The next thing he knew, he was standing on the edge, opposite Jeff Malcomson and his friends, of the Devil's Footprint.

The Devil's Footprint was a local landmark with almost legendary proportions. It was a natural chasm near an abandoned quarry just outside the village. It was called the Devil's Footprint because of its odd shape and the belief that it was a hole so deep that if someone was to fall in it, he will surely end up in the very bowels of hell. The fact that the body of Old John O'Connell, a miner who was believed to have fallen there in an accident forty years ago, was never found only fed notoriety to the legend. While it had been fenced off, boarded up, and declared off limits, it didn't stop any of the local boys, who sought adventure or made idiotic dares, from going there to prove their manhood.

Howell himself never set foot there before. His constant lapses of flightiness may have brought him into a world of trouble in the past, but he had more than enough sense to stay away from something that spelled certain death. And there was always something about the Devil's Footprint that unsettled him, so he took every excuse he could think of to steer clear from it whenever Mumbles or brother brought up an excursion to the place, even out on a dare. With the adrenaline from his fury quickly dissipating since the drive from school, Howell was quickly questioning the state of his sanity for challenging Jeff Malcomson to a stupid duel of the older boy's choice.  
In fact, the strange energy that seemed to surround the entire area hit him almost instantly the moment Jeff Malcomson's car crossed the quarry's boundaries. The closer they got, the stronger it felt. It was as if there were little bolts of electricity shooting through in the air, prickling his skin, causing a dull itch. The sensation was worse on the areas of his body not protected by his clothing. Fighting the urge to scratch was starting to drive him insane.

"Well, Jenkins?" Jeff Malcomson jeered from his end, snapping Howell out of his reverie. "You feel like going home and crying to your grandma yet?"

_'Better to live as a fool than die a foolish death'_ Howell heard one of Mumbles' deadpan sarcasms instantly murmur in his head. He frowned in annoyance. Even when his best friend wasn't around (and probably wouldn't be on speaking terms for at least a week), she still managed to poke fun at him. Howell was beginning to believe that he was truly cursed when it came to general relationships with the opposite gender.

"How does it feel now that you can't hide under your sister's skirt?" Jeff Malcomson broke that train of thought as he continued on with taunting.

Howell couldn't help glaring at the older boy, but didn't say anything else. While he knew quite clearly why Jeff Malcomson would think that way, it wasn't his fault that Megan was over-protective to the point of 'scary'. Besides, Howell never admitted to being brave in the first place. He didn't even know what came over him to confront Jeff Malcomson, and it was an act of temporary insanity that he was quickly regretting.

The older boy, however, interpreted Howell's silence as an act of defiance. He glared back at the younger boy. "You make me sick. You strut around with that superior attitude of yours just because you're Ma'am Jenkin's boy, then go around walking like a wounded animal to gain people's sympathy so you can hide behind them like the coward that you are. Well guess what, we're going to teach you a lesson and not even your girlfriend can save you now."

"My what?" Howell cried out in complete bewilderment. But that was all he could do, as Jeff Malcomson's friends surrounded him. He swore under his breath. He should have known better than challenge Jeff Malcomson when the older boy's group of monkeys were around to follow faithfully. What was he thinking, believing that he would actually stand a chance?

Jeff Malcomson's friends jeered and laughed as they jostled and aimed slap shots at Howell between themselves. Howell knew all at once that he simply and stupidly invited the boys to give him a good beating with no witnesses. All Howell was able to do was raise his arms instinctively to protect his head. One boy managed to catch just above the ear him, causing him to loose his balance and stumble forward onto the protective wooden planks covering the Devil's Footprint. Howell instantly recognized the sound of the aged wood protesting loudly under his weight through the ringing in his ears. He froze, not even daring to breathe.

"Feeling a bit braver yet?" Jeff Malcomson ragged gleefully on top of his friends' taunts and laughter.

Howell knew that the lath and its supports, despite their age and the intimidating creaks they created whenever he shifted even the slightest, were more than enough to support his weight and possibly even five or more boys at the same time. But as he stood on top of the chasm, he knew for sure that the source of the strangeness of the place was that hole itself. The anxiety he was feeling instantly doubled. He didn't understand why he knew, and at that point, he didn't really care. All he wanted was to get away… far, far away!

Suddenly, one of the boys suddenly leapt unto the boards with him and started jumping up and down on it. Howell fell on his hands and knees in terror as the ground shook beneath him. Howell let out a startled yelp as a jolt of energy shot through him when his hands connected with the wood.

Jeff Malcomson let out a satisfied sigh. "Man, I wish your stupid sister could see this… her precious baby brother snivelling on the ground like a pathetic little doggie. Serves you right for making me look bad. It would serve HER right for humiliating me."

Howell sat on his heels and stared at the older boy in surprise, completely forgetting about the terror he was feeling with his current situation. There was something in Jeff Malcomson's sulky tone that was hauntingly familiar, and Howell's face wrinkled in disgust upon realizing what it was. "I don't believe this…You fancy my sister!"

The older boy stared back at Howell, his face instantly turning beet red coupled with an expression similar to a three-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"You kept on torturing me because Megan went to your house and yelled at your father?" Howell continued on in complete disbelief.  
Whatever ire that Howell lost to fear started to reignite with his indignation. By this time, Jeff Malcomson's friends were watching the scene in shocked silence. Surprisingly, they, too, were caught completely off-guard by Howell's revelation. Howell glanced at them from the corner of his eye with a smug expression, watching them shuffle and look at each other awkwardly as if they were unsure of what to do next. Howell was definitely starting to get genuinely pissed at the unfairness of the world. What was this? Kindergarten? Why the hell did he have to be caught in the middle of this in the first place?

"That's not…" Jeff Malcomson stammered weakly when he finally found his voice

"Jeff, that is NOT cool." One of the older boy's friends finally spoke, apparently coming to the same conclusion as Howell and agreeing with it.

"_**SHUT UP!**_" Jeff Malcomson glared at his friend, before turning back to Howell. "I_** DON'T**_ like your stupid sister! She's a frigid, cold-hearted, ice-princess who orders the sun and moon to revolve around her! She walks around and wraps men around her finger, then drops them like yesterday's garbage when she doesn't have any more use for them!"

Howell bristled at the older boy's words. Of course he thought the same way about his sister's bossiness, and he also made more than a dozen cracks about her pickiness with her past suitors. It was their fault following her around like disgusting, sick puppies anyway. But Jeff Malcomson had no right to talk about Megan that way… and in that mocking tone of his to boot!

"Don't insult my sister! You don't know anything about her!" Howell growled as he clenched his fingers into fists. If he wasn't so preoccupied with his anger, he probably would have noticed a sudden change in the air around him. Even Jeff Malcomson's friends sensed it, causing all three boys to move instinctively away.

"Oh, I know a lot of things," Jeff Malcomson sneered. Unlike his friends, he simply saw the strange shift as another opportunity to rile up the younger boy. He simply continued on, seeing how mere invectives about Megan caused Howell to react more than all the previous physical torments he put on the younger boy in the past.

He strode forward nonchalantly until he towered over the smaller boy. "Your sister goes around acting like proper and righteous Miss Perfect, and made everyone believe she's the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary. Nobody dares to talk about it, out of respect for Ma'am Jenkins. But everyone knows the only reason your frigid sister finally agreed to marry Gareth Parry was because Parry managed to get between her legs."

With just those words, something inside Howell snapped. His righteous anger exploded into all-consuming fury. Before he realized what he was doing, he jumped onto his feet and swung at the older boy, catching Jeff Malcomson square on the nose. The bigger boy stumbled backwards and fell awkwardly, an expression of complete bewilderment on his face. Unfortunately, the other boys acted before Howell could follow-up his action..

Within a blink of an eye, two of the boys grabbed him from behind. But Howell struggled and kicked like a cat being forced into a bag that the boys had no choice but to roughly pin the younger boy on the ground. Howell's left temple hit the wooden planks with a loud thud, stunning him and causing the world to spin wildly around him. By the time the world shifted back in focus, he only had enough time to see an angry Jeff Malcomson towering over him, rearing one leg towards his face as if the older boy was about to give a rugby ball a swift kick.  
Howell instinctively closed his eye and tensed helplessly against his captors.

"Jesus Jeff! Are you trying to kill him!" one of Jeff Malcomson's friends, the one who wasn't helping pin Howell down, suddenly yelled. "You said we were just going to humiliate him and scare him a little."

"The little shit hit me!" Howell heard Jeff Malcomson shriek angrily in reply. "Let go so I can teach that punk a lesson!"

"The hell you are!" the other boy retorted angrily. "What are you two idiots doing? Let go of the brat and help me here!"

Howell instantly felt the pressure holding down his body release as his captors let go, scrambling to help their friend. Howell tried to get on his feet to run, but when he tried to open his eyes, the world suddenly tilted dangerously to one side. He swore again under his breath.  
Howell cautiously opened his eyes then gasped in surprise at the images in front of him. In the near distance, the older boys were still struggling and arguing against a screaming Jeff Malcomson, Howell a forgotten afterthought. But what bewildered him was how everything else around them changed.

The landscape turned strange, dotted with pulsing golden lines and fissures in a dull glow. But the Devil's Footprint was the oddest sight of all. Right before him was a strange golden pattern etched on the wood, pulsing rhythmically like a heart beat. The strange energy, which now felt stronger as his hands rested within the pattern on the wood, seemed to throb in time with his own heart.

"I must have hit my head harder than I thought," Howell murmured softly.

"The hell!" The boy who helped Howell suddenly yelled.

Howell looked up to face him, only to confirm that the rumours about Jeff Malcomson's prowess as an athlete were not exaggerated. Not only did Jeff Malcomson look as if he was ready to kill the smaller boy, his three friends seemed as if they were in the losing end of a battle with a bear.

"Are you some kind of retard, kid? Get out of here!" the boy yelled crossly. He was about to say something else, but Jeff Malcomson's knuckles got free, then silenced and stunned the other boy before he could do anything else. Upon seeing him fall, Jeff Malcomson's other friends, finally let go in their terror. Howell could only watch the older boy's intimidating bulk quickly advancing towards him like a sixteen-wheeler-truck.

Howell's heart raced… and odder still, so did the pulsation of the pattern on the ground. In fact, the dull glow of the patterns on the ground seemed to shine a brighter with each succeeding throb. Yet despite the strange occurrence, it didn't seem like Jeff Malcomson or his friends were even noticing the weirdness of what was happening. This only made Howell even more anxious.

By the time Jeff Malcomson's burly arms had him within reach, streams of blinding golden rays filtered through the cracks and fissures on the ground, forcing Howell to cringe and close his eyes. All the while, the only thing that went through Howell's mind was a very strong desire to be somewhere,_** ANYWHERE**_, else than where he was.

A loud cracking noise tore the air just above his head like a clap of thunder, deafening him. It was then followed by a strong gust of sweltering wind that attacked him at all directions. Howell opened his mouth to let out a scream of pain as the air burned his skin, only to find himself choke and gasp painfully as the smouldering air invaded his throat and lungs. From a distance, he thought he heard Jeff Malcomson and the older boy's friends yelling and screaming in horror.

Howell didn't have time to feel smug at the realization that Jeff Malcomson screamed even more like a girl than he did when frightened. The golden light managed to filter through his closed lids and rob his eyes of the protective darkness they hid in, finally robbing the last senses as the world became a silent white landscape.

* * *

"…is usually known as a quiet small town. But late this afternoon, the bell atop the local church, that hasn't been rung outside of the Sunday services since the Second World War, rang in alarm as the entire village shuddered at an explosion that occurred in the quarry just outside the town's borders. Emergency crews are still on the scene. It's still undetermined, but it would appear that several local teens were at the site when the explosion happened. Authorities have not yet released their identities or their conditions. The cause of the explosion is still under investigation, but early speculation points to a possible gas leak. There has been an emergency evacuation issued and…"

"That's it," A man grimly stared intently at the BBC broadcast in front of him.

The young woman sitting beside him let out a sigh as she pushed her spectacles up her nose. "Just leave it to the media to make things even more complicated than it is."

"It's never simple," The man replied in the same manner before turning to his companion. "Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine. Stop worrying," The young woman replied, looking a little miffed. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll drag Nick along with me. He needs something to stop him from moping over that girlfriend of…"

"I can hear you, you know. I'm NOT moping," A third voice called out from another room. "And she's NOT my girlfriend!"

"Besides, Will needs your help more fixing the damage over on his side," The young woman continued on. "I can handle it."

The man let out a sigh.

"I'm ready!" The young woman protested indignantly.

"Alright!" The man replied throwing out his arms in defeat, before turning to his companion with a serious look. "I'll try to get to you as fast as I can if you'll ever need help. Nonetheless, I still want you go to her."

The young woman frowned.

"Now don't you be difficult. She can help you!" The man interrupted before the young woman could verbalize her objection. "Knowing her, she won't follow the evacuation orders so she will be in the area."

"She eluded the former Emperor's search parties all this time, what makes you think that her Ladyship will allow herself to be found this time?" The young woman argued.

"Because that seal was part of her self-imposed geas," The man replied in a patient tone. "Something or someone was powerful enough to break through that seal and ripple through nodes in several worlds along with it. If there is indeed a person responsible for that, she will want herself to be found."

"Yeah, I'm sure I can just mosey into town and conveniently find someone who will answer to the name Lady Se  
drenia," The young woman asked sarcastically

"Rumour has it that she married a local man years ago and goes by the name Jenkins now," The man answered, ignoring the young woman's tone

The young woman raised an eyebrow as she gave her partner a condescending look. "Do you have any idea how many Jenkinses there are in Wales?"

"But you're not searching in all of Wales," The man countered, before breaking into a worried smile as he reached out to caress the young woman's cheek. "Maree, are you sure you're still up to this?"

The young woman snorted as she took her partners hand and twined her fingers with his. "You worry too much, Rupert."

End of Chapter Four  
To be continued.

Disclaimer: "Howl's Moving Castle", "Deep Secret", "The Merlin Conspiracy" and all its characters belong to Diana Wynne Jones.

* * *

Author's squawk:

I didn't want to spoil the last bit too fast so I put the disclaimer at the end. . Yep, the last part of this chapter is actually an intro to chapter 5.

I finished this chapter around a month ago, actually. And the lovely Sunoko once again did a great job beta-ing for me. But it took me so long to post it because I was agonizing about the next chapter. I didn't want to break the rhythm of the story and suddenly pull away from Howl's POV. I considered just plodding straight right to what is now Chapter 6 and making what is Chapter 5 a side story. But it won't make a lot of sense if I suddenly did that. I didn't want people to miss what was going to be in Chapter 5, and if I made it into a side story, those not following this story may pretty much miss it altogether. Essentially, Chapter 5 is going to be a chapter-long introduction to Chapter 6 if I followed this route. So after much thought, I decided to go towards this direction. Though it feels really weird because of the sudden shift...

"Deep Secret" and "Howl's Moving Castle" has two completely different storytelling atmospheres around them. But Maree is essential to this particular part of the story, and this part will actually show the connection between this fic and my other Howl's Moving Castle fic: "Of Angels, Demons and Wickedness". If you haven't figured it out by now, all the HMC fic I have written is following the same time line and is connected in some way or other. . Hopefully, Chapter 5 will be interesting enough… its going shed a lot of light over Howl's parents back story. I always wanted to find a way to write more about Howl's Mom, especially. . I developed an interesting back story about her and I couldn't find the opportunity to put it in. It's probably going to spill over a bit to Chapter 6 as well…

Ah… I think that's all the possible spoilers I will give for now. .

Comments, criticisms, flame throwers… click the review button please! .

Ja!  
Ina-chan


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